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LINCOLN TIME 
STORIES 



1 






















People stood in front of it all day reading it 

From story (the sword's story) 

2 










































By CAPPIYN SHEKMN BAILEY 

Author o£ 

READING TIME STORIES, 
5DRFRISE STORIES, etc. 


FOLLY ILLUSTRATED 


4 X JD5T RIGHT BOOK!!- 
ALBERT WHITMAN COMPANY" 
PUBLISHERS 
CHICAGO *13 *S *A 


3 








LINCOLN TIME STORIES 
Copyright, 1924, by Albert Whitman d Co., 


Chicago, U. S. A. 


/ 

A 


A 




“JUST RIGHT” BOOKS 
BY 

CAROLYN SHERWIN 
BAILEY 

Little Men and Women Stories 
Surprise Stories 
Reading Time Stories 
All Year Play Games 
In and Out-of-Door Play 
Games 

EACH SIXTY CENTS 
An Extraordinary Collection 

Stories from an Indian Cave 
RETAIL PRICE $1.25 


ALBERT WHITMAN & COM¬ 
PANY 

PUBLISHERS 



A JUST RIGHT BOOK, 


PUBLISHED IN THE U. S. A. 


4 


- SEP Hi '24' A, 

©ciAsoi7 zey A 






























THE CONTENTS 


i/f 

rJ 

I 

4 

$ 


Page 

The Man Who Knew Lincoln. 7 

The Boy Who Did Not Know the Flag. 15 

The Sword’s Story. 25 

A Little Bnowerie Village Rose. 32 

The Dunce Boy. 43 

Stay-At-Home Soldier. 50 

Franz’ Last Lesson. 59 

Grandmother’s Story. 6$ 

The Cat’s Grandfather. 78 

Hurrah for the Flag. 38 

Tea with the Princess. 38 


5 














Why, this was Great-uncle John 















































































































































































LINCOLN TIME 
STORIES 


“I had to split wood and help the grocer,” Bob began 

THE MAN WHO KNEW LINCOLN 
Bob was really quite well of his 
mumps, but he could not go to school 
yet. There was a rule about the length* 




8 


Lincoln Time Stories 


of time children who had been ill with 
mumps must stay home. And this 
time covered Lincoln’s birthday. 
That was too bad, for the primary 
children were going to have such a 
good time. Bob heard about it when 
the other boys and girls came home 
and told him across his front fence. 

“We are going to march with the 
big flag,” they said, “and have a drill 
up in the assembly room and sing. 
And,” they kept the news until the 
last, “a man who knew Lincoln is go¬ 
ing to talk to us!” 

It was almost more than Bob could 
stand. On the morning of Lincoln’s 



The Man Who Knew Lincoln 


9 


birthday he felt quite like crying. 
But so many things happened at home 
that he couldn’t take the time. 

In the first place, old great-uncle 
John came unexpectedly with his great 
old leather bag and he wanted a fire 
in the guest room. It was a chilly 
kind of day. And mother was too 
busy looking after Sister and cooking 
to do very much else. So Bob, who 
could go outdoors as well as not, the 
doctor said, came to the rescue. He 
sharpened his hatchet and cut kin¬ 
dlings and brought in enough logs so 
great-uncle John could have a rous¬ 
ing fire all day. He hadn’t unpacked 




10 


Lincoln Time Stories 


yet, and he told Bob he had saved him 
from the rheumatism. 

Then the groceries didn’t come so 
Bob went down to the store to see 
what was the matter. “If you would 
rather not, Mr. Stebbins,” Bob said to 
the grocer, “I won’t come in. I have 
had the mumps, but the doctor says 
I am well.” 

The grocer laughed. “I had the 
mumps when I was a little boy,” he 
said, “ and I would almost be willing 
to have them over again if I could get 
a boy to help me. Your mother’s order 
has just gone. It ought to be there 
now, but I am behind with all these 




The Man Who Knew Lincoln 


11 


orders. My delivery boy is taking a 
holiday.” 

‘‘I can carry some or the orders for 
you, Mr. Stebbins,” Bob told him. “I’m 
not going to the celebration.” He 
took a couple of baskets and was off. 
It was a busy day in the kitchens and 
everyone was glad to see Bob com¬ 
ing with the sugar and eggs and 
spices. He worked for the grocer 
until late in the afternoon and then 
he started home. The celebration 
would be over at school and Bob was 
tired, but he had a shining quarter 
in his pocket in payment for his work. 

When he came home, he had a great 




12 


Lincoln Time Stories 


surprise. He thought at first that he 
must have been dreaming, for a 
strange man dressed in the uniform of 
old war days sat in the living room 
with Sister in his lap. The soldier 
was telling Sister about Lincoln. 

“He split wood for his mother when 
he was a boy, and he worked in a 
grocery store, carrying home things 
until late every day. You see I knew 
Lincoln. I went to war when he was 
president,” the man was saying. 

But Bob knew the voice. Why, this 
was great uncle John! Bob had never 
known these wonderful things about 
him. His uniform, his old canteen, 




The Man Who Knew Lincoln 


13 


his knapsack and his army pistol 
must have been in his bag right up 
there in the guest room. 

Just then great uncle John spied 
Bob. “Well, sonny,” he said, “I missed 
you in school. I told the children how 
I knew Lincoln, but I didn’t see you 
anywhere.” 

“I had to split wood and help the 
grocer,” Bob began, and then he 
stopped, for he had a nice thought. 
The same thought came to great 
uncle John at the same time. “You 
were having a Lincoln’s birthday cele¬ 
bration all by yourself, weren’t you?” 
he said. 




14 


Lincoln Time Stories 


That was true. Like the great man 
whose birthday it was, Bob had been 
trying to do the small things that 
came, in a big way, without com¬ 
plaining. And such an end to the 
day! A man who had known Lin¬ 
coln right in their house! 

















































































Boy Who Did Not Know the Flag 15 



THE BOY WHO DID NOT KNOW 
THE FLAG 

The Man-Who-Knew-Lincoln could 
tell stories about the Civil War, and be¬ 
fore he went away from Bob’s house 
he told him all about a little boy way 






16 


Lincoln Time Stories 


down in Tennessee who had never 
seen the Stars and Stripes. 

“It was in a little town called Nor¬ 
mandy,” he began, “in the mountains, 
and way, way off with only a small 
store and a smaller blacksmith shop 
and ever so many wild dogs and rough 
little boys. And the Army of the 
Union had to stop there, for we were 
all tired out trying to march to 
Georgia and the soldiers were going 
to make bread. Yes, sir,” said the 
Man-Who-Knew-Lincoln, “there was a 
lot beside fighting to do for the regi¬ 
ment. 

“So we stopped just outside Nor- 




Boy Who Did Not Know the Flag 17 


mandy and set up the tents with the 
Stars and Stripes flying, and the ma¬ 
sons of the regiment tore down an old 
house and built a big oven with the 
bricks. It was a big, wide, old fash¬ 
ioned oven such as my grandmother 
used. You never saw one like it. And 
then the carpenters of the regiment 
took the old boards of the house and 
made bread trays and mixing troughs 
and moulding boards. 

“Then I helped the other soldiers 
bring water from a spring and mix it 
with our flour into dough. After that 
we moulded it and baked the loaves 
brown and crisp in the brick oven. 




18 


Lincoln Time Stories 


Every morning each soldier in the 
regiment had a loaf of fresh bread, all 
the same size. And there was enough 
baking done to provide bread for the 
march. 

“Well, just before we broke camp 
there at Normandy a little village boy 
came with a pack of fierce hounds and 
was going to try and steal some bread 
for himself and his dogs. He looked as 
if he needed it, and so did the dogs, 
thin, half starved creatures. And the 
soldiers brought the boy into camp, 
for they had never seen a little boy so 
wild and ragged and yet so brave. He 
had tried to set his dogs on the sentinel 




Boy Who Did Not Know the Flag 19 


and was not one bit afraid when he 
was brought right up to the tent 
where the colonel of the regiment sat 
under the Stars and Stripes with his 
sword across his lap. No one was go¬ 
ing to hurt that little southern boy, 
but the colonel wanted to see him. 

“But the boy did not pay a bit of 
attention to anything but the flag. It 
was a large flag that had been in bat¬ 
tles. It was torn and burned in spots, 
but its colors were bright. There it 
waved above him, the flag of his 
country. 

“ ‘Whose flag is that?’ the little Ten¬ 
nessee boy asked in a voice full of 




20 


Lincoln Time Stories 


wonder. ‘I reckon I never saw such a 
pretty piece of blue color as that in 
the corner of it, with all those stars. 
What’s that piece of blue in your flag 
for?’ 

“Our colonel of the regiment didn’t 
say anything for a moment, for he was 
so much taken aback. The soldiers 
stood around surprised too. Here the 
Union was at war with itself, brothers 
fighting brothers, and a fair land be¬ 
ing spoiled with gun powder, and back 
there in the Tennessee mountains they 
hadn’t ever seen our flag! Maybe that 
was the reason the fighting was going 
on, because they didn’t know what Old 
Glory waved for. 





/////1 


Asked in a voice of ivonder 


21 


































































































22 


Lincoln Time Stories 


“So our colonel called the little Ten¬ 
nessee boy to him and we soldiers kept 
his wild dogs off while the boy heard 
all about his flag. He heard how the 
red stripes stood for our country’s 
courage, and the white for its purity, 
and the blue was for being true to 
the right. And the boy was most 
pleased to hear about the blue, the 
patch of it with stars in the corner, for 
that was what took his eye most of all. 
And when the colonel told him that it 
was his flag, you ought to have seen 
his eyes stick out. He had very little 
of his own, hardly enough to eat, there 
in his mountain town. But it made him 




Boy Who Did Not Know the Flag 23 


feel proud to know that he had a flag. 

“We fed his dogs and gave him some 
fresh bread to take home, and he was 
the friend of the Army until we started 
on toward Georgia. Almost every day 
that boy came out to our camp to look 
at the flag and we never thought of 
him as the boy of an enemy. He was 
just a little fellow who had never seen 
the flag. 

“Then we joined General Grant and 
fought with Sherman, farther toward 
the sea, but we never forgot that boy 
back in Tennessee. We always won¬ 
dered if there were not others who 




24 


Lincoln Time Stories 


did not know the Stars and Stripes, 
who would have loved the blue and 
the stars as he did,” said the Man-Who- 
Knew-Lincoln. 



do 





The Sword’s Story 


25 



THE SWORD’S STORY 
“Your sword is rusty, Great-uncle 
John,” Bob said as the Man-Who- 
Knew-Lincoln was packing his bag 
ready to go home. 

“I know it,” he said, “and there is 
a story about that.” 

“Oh, is there time for it?” Bob asked. 
“It’s short, and good for today,” the 
Man-Who-Knew-Lincoln said, laying 















26 


Lincoln Time Stories 


his sword in his lap. “It begins with 
a birthday party. 

“You see, when the war was all over, 
there was a great deal of planting and 
making things and inventing things 
to be done in the Union. War always 
sets a country back, so we all went to 
work hard, and when we were one 
hundred years old according to our 
independence, we had what we called 
a Centennial celebration in a big green 
park in Philadelphia. But it was really 
America’s birthday party. 

“All the nations of the world came 
or sent exhibits to it. You would have 
had a fine time looking at the carved 




The Sword’s Story 


27 


ivories from India, the first popped 
corn from our west, the queer little 
locomotives we were using, the wax 
figures of minute men of the Revolu¬ 
tion, the Chinese fans and toys, the 
new carpet looms, and our press for 
printing stamps for letters. I can’t tell 
you one-quarter of all the wonderful 
and odd exhibits at the Centennial. 

“We had a family of acrobats, and 
among them a little boy who went up 

over the grounds every day in a bal¬ 
loon. That was something very new, 
and always drew a crowd. But what 
I was going to tell you wasn’t about 
balloons or popped corn. It was the 




28 


Lincoln Time Stories 


story of a sword as a school child had 
written it, and it was hung up on the 
wall of one of the Centennial build¬ 
ings. People stood in front of it all 
day reading it. 

“This child’s story was told by a 
sword itself who lived in the first place 
deep down under a mountain in a 
mine. It was dark there and the sword 
felt as if it would like to see the light. 
One day it was dug up in a piece of 
metal, tempered, and shaped into a 
soldier’s blade. It felt bright and 
shining then. It started out to fight 
for the man and win him honor and 
glory. 

“It was a sharp, strong sword and it 




The Sword’s Story 


29 


did its work well, but wherever it went, 
instead of seeing the light, the sword 
seemed to bring on a storm. It was 
almost as bad as being hidden down 
under the ground in a mine. Clash¬ 
ing against other swords, this one that 
was telling its story, made lightning. 
All about it was the thunder of great 
guns and the fire of their powder. It 
was important to fight, this sword 
knew, but before it was through, it be¬ 
gan to think of itself, not as bright and 
shining, but as a very frightful crea¬ 
ture. It was not at all pleased with 
itself. 

“But presently the war was over. A 
place was found for the sword in a 
sheath of leather and it was hung on 




30 


Lincoln Time Stories 


the wall of the soldier’s house. It grew 
rusty, but it felt better pleased with 
its peaceful life than it had with its 
fighting, and it asked a quill pen who 
lived in an ink stand near by to write 
its story for our Centennial. The pen 
did this, and there was the little girl’s 
sword composition in a place of honor 
at our country’s birthday party. 

“There was hardly anything there 
that was more interesting,” the Man- 
Who-Knew-Lincoln ended. “Every 
sword wants to win its battle, if it 
must, but a rusty sword can be proud 
of itself too.” 

“It could dig weeds, or make fur¬ 
rows for planting,” Bob said, touching 
the old sword with a new interest. 




The Sword’s Story 


31 


“Or keep off new wars by telling 
the story of its own fights,” said the 
Man-Who-Knew-Lincoln, as he went 
on with his packing. ‘“Don’t let it 
happen again! ’ That’s what my 
sword says.” 




































































32 


Lincoln Time Stories 



A LITTLE BUOWERIE 
VILLAGE ROSE 

It was not so late in the season that 
there were not roses still blooming in 
the garden. Old New York, it was, 
and that part of it called Buowerie 
Village where Rosa lived. All up and 
down the long lane from the Battery 
Park as far as old Peter Stuyvesant’s 
pear tree back of the big Brevoort 





















A Little Buowerie Village Rose 33 


estate there were delightful gardens 
like Rosa’s. 

Rosa loved her garden, but, oh, 
why had mother thought that it would 
be a nice thing to do to cross-stitch a 
scarf for Granny Brevoort’s highboy in 
a pattern of roses? Granny was Rosa’s 
good friend, always ready to give her 
sugared crullers when the little girl 
visited the farm, but there had been 
so many stitches to count in the can¬ 
vas, so many crewel stitches to be set 
in rose and yellow, before the scarf 
was done! 

But Rosa was a long-ago child who 
had been brought up to finish a piece 




34 


Lincoln Time Stories 


of work patiently and well once she 
started it. While the birds called her 
from the orchard and the bees hummed 
sleepily among the fields of clover 
sloping down to the water front, Rosa 
had stitched. Now the cross-stitched 
scarf was finished, and now, too, Rosa 
was waiting for a surprise. 

Granny Brevoort had sent word 
that Rosa was to be ready to go some¬ 
where promptly after her twelve 
o’clock dinner. She had heard about 
this industrious little girl of their New 
York town who had been giving up 
her playtime for days to do fine crewel 
work for a friend. She wanted to give 




A Little Buowerie Village Rose 35 





But Rosa was a long-ago child 




































36 


Lincoln Time Stories 


Rosa a happy afternoon. But what 
could the surprise be, Rosa wondered, 
waiting in her best ruffled frock on the 
parlor sofa, and wearing her locket 
and her French fan? 

There was nothing very exciting for 
little Buowerie Village boys and girls 
to do except watch the ships in the 
harbor or pick apples or go for daisies. 
As she waited Rosa guessed what her 
party was to be. 

“Maybe I am to be invited to pick 
pears from Mr. Peter Stuyvesant’s tree 
way up at Thirteenth Street,” she 
thought. That would be a delight, 
for the tree was still bearing fruit after 




A Little Buowerie Village Rose 37 


two hundred years of living in a 
strange land. Governor Stuyvesant 
had brought it in its shoot from Hol¬ 
land and set it out in the farm land 
at the northern end of the settlement 
of New Amsterdam. And it was a treat 
for a child of the Buowerie to eat one 
of its honey sweet, golden pears. 

But another thought came to Rosa. 
“Perhaps I shall be taken to see the 
wax works way up beyond the Astor’s 
place, on Fourteenth Street,” she said 
to herself. And she shivered a little at 
the thought. Those wax works were 
as large as giants and they repre- 




38 


Lincoln Time Stories 


sented pirates and Indians among the 
other historical figures. 

But there was suddenly a gay flare 
of bugles, the tap of horses’ hoofs on 
the cobble stones of the street, a sound 
of merry children’s voices. 

“Rosa, Rosa Ver Planck, come out! 
Granny Brevoort has sent a coach for 
you. We are going to take you for a 
party! ” 

A red and yellow coach and four, 
and inside it some other boys and 
girls of old New York! A driver in a 
scarlet uniform and two men sitting 
up high at the back, also in uniforms 
and sounding bugles for the other car- 



A Little Buowerie Village Rose 39 


riages and the odd little horse cars to 
get out of the way! Rosa put on her 
bonnet and cape and hopped in. Off 
they galloped as gay as you please. 

“Where are we going?” Rosa asked 
between bites of a red and white pep¬ 
permint candy kiss the little Astor 
boy had given her.” 

“Oh, you wait and see,” he told her. 
“Granny said it was to be a surprise, 
but we are going a very long way 
north. I can tell you that.” 

“Close your eyes, Rosa,” Judith Van 
Rensselaer told her after they had gal¬ 
loped away from Buowerie Village 
and farther than Rosa had ever 





40 Lincoln Time Stories 

coached before. “Now open them!” 
the children all shouted. Oh, what a 
sight met the little girl’s eyes! 

A very tall building, two stories high 
and made of brick with a shining roof, 
was before her. It stood in the green 
spaces of the Madison Garden, and 
there was a crowd of other children, 
boys in long trousers and small caps, 
and little girls in ruffles and flowered 
bonnets before it. A man at the en¬ 
trance was offering small red and 
white striped bags of peanuts for sale. 
A sound of growling and roaring and 
of a brass band came from the inside. 


A Little Buowerie Village Rose 41 


How wonderful! Rosa’s coaching 
party alighted and went inside. 

There was an arena like a circus 
ring, covered with a green and white 
awning. Sawdust covered the flooring 
and tight ropes were stretched across 
the top. The children seated them¬ 
selves in the box Granny Brevoort had 
bought for them and in came the ele¬ 
phants—the first elephants in New 
York. The tight rope lady danced, 
like a fairy, in her gauzy skirts. The 
band played without stopping, and 
Rosa thought that she would make 
several cross-stitched pieces for such 
a treat as this. 




42 


Lincoln Time Stories 


What was it? Listen, for it is a 
secret for children of today. This little 
girl of old New York had gone to the 
first Hippodrome show so long ago. 
Will you think of her the next time 
you go? 




The Dunce Boy 


43 



And his book dropped to the ground 


THE DUNCE BOY 
Junior had decided not to do his 
home work. It was May, and he sat 
out in the orchard under the apple 
blossoms with his reading book open 
on his lap. It was not that the home 




44 


Lincoln Time Stories 


work was too hard for Junior, oh, no! 
All that his teacher had asked the 
children to do was to go over one 
page in the reading book so as to be 
sure that they knew all the words in 
the story. 

Junior did not know all the words, 
but he was not going to care. It was 
too warm and pleasant an afternoon 
to work. The blossoms were sweet 
and the bees hummed and the small 
insects in the grass made a low sing¬ 
ing sound. The little boy sat on the 
bench under the apple tree and his 
book dropped down to the ground. 
Who cared about school?—not Junior. 




The Dunce Boy 


45 


And that is the way he felt when 
school opened and he picked up a 
book to read. 

But how school had changed! Miss 
Mary, the pretty young teacher, was 
now quite old, with white hair and an 
odd cap. Sister, who sat beside Junior, 
wore a straight frock down to the toes 
of her small slippers and she, too, wore 
a cap in school. Bobby Blake had on 
long trousers and a ruffled shirt. And 
where were the primary room chairs 
and the desks that would move to the 
sides of the room for games? And 
there were no bright flowers in win- 




46 


Lincoln Time Stories 


dow boxes or white curtains at the 
windows. 

The children, whispering to each 
other on the hard bench where they 
sat, sounded like strangers to Junior. 

“We are almost finished with the 
candle dipping at our house,” Sister 
was saying to the girl next to her. 
Junior did not know that. 

“We had to stop our candle work,” 
the girl answered, “for there were 
rumors of Indians coming down upon 
us from the forest back of our house. 
A false alarm, but we barred the door 
and the windows.” 




The Dunce Boy 


47 


Junior grew more and more puzzled, 
but just then he heard his name called. 

“Reuben Brewster, stand up and 
read page twenty in your New Eng¬ 
land Primer,” the teacher was saying. 

Yes, that was Junior’s name, after 
his father and his grandfather also. 
There had been a Reuben in the Brew¬ 
ster family for all those years. So he 
stood up and opened his book and 
tried to read, but, oh, dear, Junior did 
not know all the words. He had not 
studied his primer at home. He stum¬ 
bled over the first sentence. Then he 
stopped altogether. 

“Dunce!” said the teacher in the 




48 


Lincoln Time Stories 


cap sternly. “Reuben Brewster, put 
on the dunce’s cap and sit in the cor¬ 
ner on that high stool until I say you 
may get down.” 

All the other children looked sorry 
for Junior as he put on a high pointed 
cap that said Dunce in large letters on 
the front. He had to climb up to a 
very high seat on the stool. His legs 
were not long enough to reach even 
its first rung. He felt miserable and 
ashamed. He wriggled around. Then, 
plump, Junior fell off the dunce’s stool 
and into the soft grass! 

He rubbed his eyes and looked 
about. There was the orchard, the 
bees, the singing insects. His reading 




The Dunce Boy 


49 


book lay beside him. It had been only 
a dream of a long-ago school like the 
schools Miss Mary told the children 
stories of. But of one thing Junior was 
sure as he scrambled up to the bench 
under the apple tree and opened his 
book. 

He was going to do his home work. 
There were dunces in schools today 
just as there were in long-ago schools. 
Reuben Brewster third was not going 
to be one of those dunces. 





50 


Lincoln Time Stories 



When he had strapped an that drum 


STAY-AT-HOME SOLDIER 

Great-Grandfather’s little red drum 
hung in a place of honor in the farm 
house. He had been a drummer boy 
in the Civil War, a boy no older than 
John, when he had strapped on that 
drum and gone with the regiment. 



Stay-At-Home Soldier 


51 


John knew that it was still a good 
drum, for he had carried it in the 
parade when the Feeding Hills boys 
decided to go to France. There was 
a World War and a camp for training 
soldiers near the farm at Feeding 
Hills, the farm that had been Great- 
Grandfather’s. John longed with all 
his heart to go with the new regiment, 
beating the old drum, and telling 
France, that America had come. 

But as John thought about it and 
planned to run away, perhaps, for that 
was what Great-Grandfather had done 
when he joined the army as a drummer 




52 


Lincoln Time Stories 


boy, this other boy of the World War 
worked. 

There was ever so much to do on 
the farm, short of men as they were. 

In the spring there was the winter 
wheat to cut, and soon after that the 
haying began. The horses at the 
training camp needed so much hay, 
and wheat flour must be sent on the 
great ships that were carrying food to 
Europe. Then the seed potatoes had 
to be put in, and there were always 
odd jobs for John. He took all the care 
of the chickens, and bedded stalls in 
the barn. He helped mother plant and 





Stay-At-Home Soldier 


53 


tend the kitchen garden. He had no 
time to even lift down the old drum. 

But as John worked, he often heard 
a patter and thud of horses’ hoofs on 
the road in front of the barn. Look¬ 
ing up he would see the soldiers riding 
by. Then he would salute them, and 
once an officer had stopped for a drink 
of their clear, cool well water. How 
brave and gallant he looked in his new 
uniform. 

“Will you need a drummer boy for 
the Feeding Hills regiment?” John 
asked, but the officer only laughed as 
he patted him on his head. “What we 
need most is regulars,” he said, “regu- 




54 


Lincoln Time Stories 


lar soldiers to show that America has 
come.” 

So John began to feel very much 
discouraged. He felt as if he were not 
keeping up the honor of the family. 
Father had gone to France the year 
before and mother was keeping the 
farm going with the help of two old 
men from the village. But John 
wanted to go. He wanted to beat that 
*red drum, and with every beat tell the 
world what it means to be an Ameri¬ 
can. 

Every day made his chance slim¬ 
mer, though. The training camp 
emptied. No one knew when the regi- 




Stay-At-Home Soldier 


55 


ment went, but one morning it was 
gone. The farm was quiet, but there 
was a great deal of work to do. Food, 
food, that was the call at all the farms 
that lay among their fields of grain. 
And John did his best to help raise 
food for the army. 

For days there were no troops to 
be seen on the road. But one day, as 
John was raking up the chaff at the 
barn door, thud, thud, came again the 
beat of horses’ hoofs. He looked out 
at two soldiers riding by. Why, one 
of them was an officer, John saw, the 
one who had asked for a drink and 






56 


Lincoln Time Stories 


told him that he wasn’t needed as a 
drummer boy. 

The officer, too, remembered John. 
For an instant he drew rein and waved 
his hand to the boy in overalls there 
in the barn door. 

“Good-bye, Stay-At-Home Soldier,” 
called the officer. “Hold that rake as 
tightly as if it were a musket, for it’s 
quite as useful! ” Then he was off in 
a cloud of dust. 

John watched him until the road 
was white and still again in its sun¬ 
light. What a surprise that had been, 
to be called a soldier by an officer 
whose word could be trusted! Very 























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To be called a soldier by an 



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58 


Lincoln Time Stories 


likely times were changed from the 
days when boys could drum with the 
regiment. He could fight a battle 
every day with the weeds and shoul¬ 
der his hoe like a gun and help raise 
food for father and the others so far 
away in France. 

Stay-At-Home Soldier! That was 
a fine title, John thought. He would 
go on helping mother and the old red 
drum would keep up his courage and 
the honor of his family, just as well as 
if he had hung it around his neck. 





Franz’ Last Lesson 


59 



Twittered a call to Louis 


FRANZ’ LAST LESSON 

Louis, a little boy of beautiful Al¬ 
sace, was not listening to the alphabet 
which his good grand-mere was teach¬ 
ing to him in the garden. The sun 




60 


Lincoln Time Stories 


was warm and the birds, drinking at 
the pump, twittered a call to Louis to 
go with them to the meadows. Louis’ 
book almost dropped from his hands. 
He was thinking, not of his A B C’s, 
but of play. 

“Fie upon you, Louis!” said his 
grand-mere. “You are like little 
Franz who did not want to learn the 
language of our Alsace so many years 
ago.” 

“Franz? Who was he, Grand- 
mere?” asked Louis. A story, he 
thought, would be better than saying 
over and over the letters of the dull 
alphabet. 




Franz’ Last Lesson 


61 


“He was a young Alsatian boy of 
many years ago, was little Franz,” said 
Grand-mere, “and one morning just 
like this, when the sun was shining 
warmly and the blackbirds were call¬ 
ing across the grain fields, Franz was 
on his way to school. The school was 
kept by the kind old schoolmaster, 
Monsieur Hamel, who had sat at his 
desk so many years that the walnut 
tree in the school yard, once a strip¬ 
ling, was now bearing nuts, and the 
hop vine had climbed to the roof. 

“But little Franz was like you, my 
Louis, careless of his letters, and he 
took his way slowly across the fields 




62 


Lincoln Time Stories 


and by the longest way. He was al¬ 
ready late, but still he did not hurry. 
Suddenly Franz heard a loud drum¬ 
ming from the parade ground of the 
Prussians, for at that time our Alsace 
was in the hands of enemies. 

“Boom-boom, went the guns more 
loudly than Franz had ever heard 
them before. And as he came to the 
gate of the school the town black¬ 
smith was putting up a sign which 
Franz could not read, because it was 
written in the language of the Prus¬ 
sians. The blacksmith looked very 
sad. Franz went into school then, ex- 



Franz’ Last Lesson 


63 


peering that the teacher would scold 
him for being so late.” 

“And did Monsieur Hamel scold 
little Franz?” Louis asked. 

“No,” said his grand-mere. “Little 
Franz took his seat on the bench, and 
the school room was so quiet that he 
could hear the humming of the insects 
in the garden outside. The children 
sat still and with folded hands. At 
the back of the room sat a row of the 
oldest men of the village, the mayor, 
the letter carrier, and some old sol¬ 
diers. And the carrier had his old 
French primer open in his lap, saying 
over and over to himself, the lessons 




64 


Lincoln Time Stories 


he had neglected to learn when he 
was a little boy. 

“But the strangest part of it all to 
Franz was the appearance of Monsieur 
Hamel. He wore his best green broad¬ 
cloth suit and his white ruffled shirt 
and a black tie. He stood before the 
children and spoke to them, his face 
full of sorrow. 

“The teacher told them that this was 
to be their last lesson in French. The 
notice pinned up on the gate said that 
a new teacher from Berlin was coming 
to their village and they were to learn 
only the language of the Prussians in 
their school, the language of their 




Franz’ Last Lesson 


65 


enemies. And he said that he wished 
the children had been more diligent 
in learning their primer lessons, for 
the French language seemed to him 
the most beautiful language of all. 

“So little Franz opened his book and 
read with the others and they worked 
harder over the letters and words than 
they ever had before. They could hear 
the old soldiers, the mayor of their 
village and the letter carrier reading, 
too, from a bench at the back of the 
room. And the French lesson books 
seemed to all in the school room more 
precious than fairy tales. 

“Suddenly there was a crash of 




66 


Lincoln Time Stories 


trumpets. It came from the parade 
ground of the Prussians. It was a 
signal to close the school, for Monsieur 
Hamel, who had taught the children 
so many years, to close his desk and 
lock the door behind him, giving the 
key to the new teacher. But he waited 
for only a moment. He went to the 
blackboard and wrote on it in large 
flowing letters the motto of the 
French: 

‘“Long live our Country!’ 

“It was little Franz’ last lesson in 
French.” 

“Oh, Grand-mere! ” said Louis, “but 



Franz’ Last Lesson 


67 


not mine, is it? Our country is living 
and happy, and I will learn my lessons 
well, and now.” 

Louis’ grand-mere smiled. “Yes, 
my Louis,” she said, “that was a story 
of long ago, but it is always best for 
a boy to learn to read as soon as he 
can. That makes him a good country¬ 
man, wherever he lives.” 




68 


Lincoln Time Stories 



When I whs a little girl 


GRANDMOTHER’S STORY 

‘Once upon a time, please. Grand¬ 
mother,” Lucy said as she set her 
needle straight in the seam that 
Grandmother had basted. It must be 
stitched very neatly and Lucy knew 
that a story would help the sewing 






Grandmother’s Story 


69 



On a country road in the far-away country 


















































70 


Lincoln Time Stories 


ever so much. Grandmother knew it 
too. She smiled and then she began, 
just where Lucy had left off. 

“When I was a little girl named 
Caroline, once upon a time,” said 
Grandmother, “and lived in a little red 
house on a country road in the far¬ 
away country, I had a queer kind of 
a play house. In those days if a family 
was so fortunate as to be able to buy 
a parlor organ, it had to come a long 
way on the train packed in a large box. 
Your great grandfather, my father, 
bought a parlor organ and it came in 
one of those huge boxes. And as soon 
as it was unpacked I said, ‘What a 




Grandmother’s Story 


71 


beautiful play house, big enough for 
me to live in with my doll! May I 
have the organ box to be my play 
house?’ 

‘“I don’t see any reason why you 
should not,’ my father said, and so he 
and the hired man carried the organ 
box to the end of the orchard, where 
a little green path leading toward the 
woods began, and they set it there on 
a foundation of bricks, just like a real 
cottage. 

“All summer I played in the box 
play house and almost every day I 
added something to make it more 
homelike for my doll. I had a doll s 




72 


Lincoln Time Stories 


bureau there and my doll’s bed with 
some linen sheets that I had hemmed 
and a red and green patched quilt that 
my mother, your great grandmother, 
had made for me. Such a pretty little 
quilt as it was for a doll to dream 
under! It was patched just like a real 
quilt in a pattern of stars. 

“The organ box was so well made 
that all it needed to keep the rain out 
was some sheets of tarred paper 
spread on the roof, and I used to curl 
up inside when it rained and listen to 
the drops on the leaves, and think that 
raindrops played the nicest tune in 
the world. 




Grandmother’s Story 


73 


“When it was the canning season 
and my mother was making catsup 
and plum butter, I played that I was 
canning too. I gathered bright ber¬ 
ries and small wild apples and cooked 
them in water in the sun on the 
orchard wall. Then I put them in 
bottles, printed labels for them and set 
them away on the shelves of my play 
house for winter. There was some¬ 
thing pleasant to do every day in the 
box play house, but presently the fall 
came and my mother said to me one 
day in late October, 

“‘Bring in all your doll’s things, 
Caroline. It is time to close the play 
house until next summer.’ 




74 


Lincoln Time Stories 


“So I went out to the orchard with a 
large basket and filled it with the little 
dishes, the cans, the bedding, but, oh, 
where was the beautiful little red and 
green patched quilt? It was nowhere 
to be found! 

“I felt very much like crying. I went 
in the house and told my mother about 
it and she thought, too, that it was 
very strange about it. Hardly anyone 
except the hired man went down to 
that part of the orchard, and of course 
he would have no use for a doll’s bed- 
quilt. It had disappeared, and my 
mother helped me to make a tufted 
pink cheesecloth quilt for my doll’s 
bed. It was pretty and warm, but not 




Grandmother’s Story 75 

nearly so nice as the red and green 
patched one. 

“One very frosty day in November, 
when the nuts were rattling down in 
the woods, I went to the orchard and 
along the little path that was now 
brown instead of green to the woods. 
I was going for a basket of chestnuts to 
roast in front of the fire in the parlor 
grate and as I went I thought, 

“ ‘I will not take all the chestnuts, for 
the gray squirrel who used to come to 
my play house last summer will need 
some for his winter store.’ 

“Just then I came to the foot of 
the chestnut tree which was old 




76 


Lincoln Time Stories 


and gnarled and full of holes. There, 
sticking out of a hole in the trunk, 
high above the ground, was something 
brightly colored. The colors were red 
and green. I looked at it more closely 
and I saw that the colors were in a 
pattern of stars. It was my doll’s 
patched bed quilt! 

“As I stood there under the tree, 
very quietly, something happened. 

“Two snapping black eyes peeped 
out of a tiny gray hood snuggled 
down in the quilt, and the squirrel 
who wore it began to scold me, ‘What 
are you doing in my woods?’ he 
seemed to say, ‘when I am so com¬ 
fortably fixed for the winter.’ 




Grandmother’s Story 


77 


“That little gray squirrel had taken 
the doll’s bed quilt and carried it to 
his hole in the tree to line it and keep 
himself warm through the winter! 

“It was still there when spring came, 
but all chewed up so as to fit the hole 
in the tree better. I was glad, though, 
that it had been such a useful quilt. 
I don’t suppose there ever was another 
squirrel who slept under a doll’s 
patched quilt all winter.” 

“Oh!” said Lucy as she looked up 
from her finished sewing, “such a nice 
story! ” 

“And a true story!” Grandmother 
told her, which made it even better 
still.” 




78 


Lincoln Time Stories 



THE CAT’S GRANDFATHER 

There was a great deal of excite¬ 
ment in the living room, for a Tiger 
with green eyes and long, sharp teeth 
had come there to stay. He lay on 
the floor in his stripes and claws and 
showing his teeth in a very fierce way. 
He took up a large space in the cen- 






The Cat’s Grandfather 


79 


ter of the room and he glared at 
everything there, his great mouth wide 
open. 

They all knew something about him 
there in the living room. They all had 
something to say about the Tiger when 
it was night and the house was asleep. 

The desk spoke in a creaking voice 
like the branches of the mahogany tree 
whose trunk had helped to make it. 
“I have seen Tigers before,” creaked 
the desk. “I lived in my tree on the 
edge of the jungle and I heard the 
roaring of wild beasts and heard their 
rushing and pawing along the trails. 
We will certainly have to move into 
some other room.” 




80 


Lincoln Time Stories 


The books spoke also from their 
shelves. They were bound in fine 
leather and remembered when they 
had lived on the backs of animals of 
the far-off forest. “We must leave to¬ 
morrow,” they said in a rustling way 
among their leaves. “No one who 
has seen a Tiger before would ever 
dare to live in the same room with 
one,” said the books and they were so 
much upset at the green eyes of the 
Tiger glowing there in the dark that 
one of them fell to the floor with a 
loud bang. 

There was a little ivory clock on 
the shelf who had once been an ele- 



The Cat’s Grandfather 




The books spoke also from their shelves 











































82 


Lincoln Time Stories 


phant’s tusk. Now she did nothing 
all day except tick in a quiet, soft way, 
but when she looked down at the fierce 
Tiger with green eyes and sharp, 
white teeth there on the floor, she 
made a mistake and struck the hour 
of twelve, although it was one o’clock. 
“That Tiger can climb up on the back 
of an elephant,” said the little ivory 
clock in an agitated, ticking way. “I 
have seen it done. Even if I have to 
live in the kitchen, I must move from 
this room tomorrow.” 

Just then the Cat came into the liv¬ 
ing room on softly padded paws. She 
had been making her rounds of the 




The Cat’s Grandfather 


83 


house to look for mice and now she 
was on her way back to the kitchen. 
The living room was suddenly quiet, 
waiting to see what the Cat would do 
at the sight of the Tiger who had come 
to live in the house. Her tail would 
bristle, very likely, and her fur send 
out sparks. 

But nothing of this kind happened. 
The Cat walked over to the Tiger and 
looked with her green eyes into his 
green eyes. Then she went around 
him, walking softly, and when she 
came to the Tiger’s tail she patted it 
with her paw. Then, as if nothing had 
happened to frighten her, the Cat went 
on her way down to the kitchen. 




84 


Lincoln Time Stories 


But the Cat knew more than she 
ever spoke of, even the furniture could 
have told you that She could see in 
the dark, and step so softly that no 
one could hear her coming, and growl 
like a Tiger herself, and sing like a 
tea-kettle, and catch mice. Oh, the 
Cat knew more about the Tiger than 
they did, these old residents of the 
living room knew. Probably, they 
thought, she had a plan. She might 
be going to get the policeman who 
walked up and down the street at 
night to capture the Tiger and lead 
him to the place where he belonged, 
the town Zoo. 




The Cat’s Grandfather 


85 


So the living room waited, and the 
Tiger with green eyes glaring and his 
sharp, white teeth showing lay on the 
floor, ready to spring. But nothing 
happened. Soon it was light, and the 
desk and the books and the little ivory 
clock were dumb, for they never speak 
in the daytime so that people can un¬ 
derstand them. 

But they wanted to speak. Oh, how 
they did want to warn Jane, the house 
child, of the Tiger’s teeth! The desk 
almost moved its legs, another book 
fell to the floor, and the clock ticked 
faster than ever as Jane came into the 
living room directly after breakfast 




86 


Lincoln Time Stories 


and stood there, her eyes big with 
wonder as she looked at the Tiger 
lying there in his stripes, his mouth 
wide open. 

Then Jane smiled. She ran over 
and sat down on the floor beside the 
Tiger and put her arms around his 
neck and his teeth still showed, but he 
did not move. All those living room 
things that had known the far-off lands 
from which tigers come trembled, but 
there was no need of their being afraid. 
The Cat knew something about that 
Tiger, and she had told it to Jane be¬ 
fore breakfast. 

That was only the Cat’s old grand- 




The Cat’s Grandfather 


87 


father, her Tiger grandfather, come to 
spend his last days as a rug in the 
house of his Cat granddaughter. His 
eyes were of green glass and his teeth 
would never bite, for he could not close 
his mouth. The Tiger was going to 
be a helpful member of the family, just 
as his Cat granddaughter tried to be. 




88 


Lincoln Time Stories 



HURRAH FOR THE FLAG! 

The Firecracker was talking to him¬ 
self in his place in the window of the 
toy shop. You would not have been 
able to catch what he was saying, for 
he spoke in Chinese, and his voice was 
choked with powder and sputtery like 









Hurrah for the Flag! 89 



The others beside him understood 


fireworks. But the others beside him 
there understood. 

“He says that this is his great day, 
the Fourth of July,” said the wooden 
soldier. “He says he will be bought 
and set off and very likely he will 
burn the boy who lights him.” 

Jack-in-the-Box laughed. That 
seemed funny to Jack, for he liked to 
scare children. He had an odd idea 
of what was amusing and pleasant to 





90 


Lincoln Time Stories 


do. “Ha-ha! ” chuckled Jack, leaning 
far out of his box so as to see the Fire¬ 
cracker better. “I have no doubt but 
what he will burn several children. 
See how large he is and what a long 
tail he wears. Ha-ha!” 

Now the Noah’s ark opened and sev¬ 
eral of the animals looked out. “It 
would be safer for a boy to take a voy¬ 
age with us on the Fourth of July,” 
they said, “than to buy a firecracker 
that can only make a noise and hurt 
him and his friends. Only think of all 
the great men who served their coun¬ 
try by sailing in ships over the sea, 
Columbus, and the rest.” 




Hurrah for the Flag! 


91 


“Quack, quack!” said the toy duck 
on wheels. “You are right, but you 
must remember that you can only talk 
about history. You can not really sail. 
You would spring a leak.” Which was 
true, and the animals drew their heads 
inside the ark and said nothing more. 

But the toy puppy looked at the 
Firecracker with big scared eyes. He 
stood so near that the Firecracker’s 
long tail, braided like a Chinaman’s 
queue, touched him. “I have seen dogs 
running through the street with fire¬ 
crackers tied to their tails,” he said in 
his small voice. At that the Fire¬ 
cracker spoke proudly. 




92 


Lincoln Time Stories 


“That is nothing to what my family 
can do! ” he boasted in Chinese. “Look 
at my splendid red coat and my height 
and my width! All inside of me is 
powder! If I am set off under a tin 
pan I will be able to shoot the pan 
higher than this window. I can 
frighten a horse so that he will run 
away. I can make enough noise to 
wake all the babies on the block. I 
can hurt a boy so he won’t be able 
to play for a long time! ” It was dread¬ 
ful to listen to the Firecracker, and as 
he talked he made crackling sounds 
inside, in his powder, as if he were go¬ 
ing off all by himself there in the win- 




Hurrah for the Flag! 


93 


dow of the toy shop. But this did not 
happen then. 

It was going to come off soon, 
though, the toys knew, for down the 
street came a Boy. 

His cheeks were rosy and his eyes 
bright for the holiday. His little dog 
ran barking by his side. Now he was 
almost to the toy shop. Now he had 
come in, and he was taking his money 
from his pocket. The Firecracker 
stood waiting there proudly in his red 
coat. This, he knew, was his day. The 
Fourth of July was the day of powder, 
burns and noise. 

But how strange! The Boy did not 




94 


Lincoln Time Stories 


buy the Firecracker. He did not even 
look at it. Instead he bought with his 
holiday money a red, white and blue 
flag with stars. It was the Boy’s own 
flag, the Stars and Stripes of his coun¬ 
try. He went out of the toy shop wav¬ 
ing the flag and shouting, “Hurrah 
for the Flag!” as he ran along the 
street. The Firecracker was left alone. 
He was not sent off. 

The toys did not know what to think 
of this. At last the youngest doll 
spoke. “They keep the Fourth of July 
with flags now,” she said. “They have 
a parade and wave the flags as it 
marches by. Of course you didn’t 




Hurrah for the Flag! 


95 



lie went out of the shop waving the flag and shouting 














96 


Lincoln Time Stories 


know that, you are all such old resi¬ 
dents of the toy shop. But I am new. 
I keep up with the times. I know how 
much more sensible the children are 
now than they were when that old 
Firecracker was made.” 

“Ha-ha!” laughed the Jack-in-the- 
Box, who did not care who he made 
fun of so long as he had a chance to 
chuckle at a joke. 

“Well, we live in the ark, but we said 
that Firecracker did not know how to 
keep a holiday,” said the animals, 
poking out their heads again. 

And the Firecracker had not a word 
to say for himself. He stood up in his 




Hurrah for the Flag! 


97 


red coat in the front of the toy shop 
window, but the toy puppy played 
with his tail and after a while he fell 
down on his side. No one ever bought 
him. He never had a chance to do any 
child a bit of harm. 



He’d never in his life been in London 







98 


Lincoln Time Stories 


TEA WITH THE PRINCESS 
John had never in all his life been 
to London and he wished very much 
that he might go. A queen and a 
king and a prince and a little princess 
named Mary lived in Buckingham 
palace in London, and John would 
have liked to see that princess. 

He and father and mother had just 
come that year to the small village 
not far from London where they had 
bought a cottage. They had a garden 
and a cow and two fine pigs. John 
was learning to milk and he helped 
his father raise the fine strawberries 
that they sold in rush baskets at the 




Tea with the Princess 


99 


village market. Theirs was a com¬ 
fortable little cottage with a rose vine 
growing at the door and a haystack 
to play in back of the garden. It was 
a good way of living, with plenty of 
fresh butter and cream and a fire of 
coals in the grate on a cool day. 

And there was Parker’s in the vil¬ 
lage, a most interesting shop for a 
little boy. Parker sold almost every¬ 
thing from hay rakes to molasses jaw¬ 
breakers, from tea to peppermint 
drops and snuff. Parker kept cricket 
balls and bats as well, slates for school 
with red felt borders and slate pencils 
wrapped in the British flag stamped 




100 


Lincoln Time Stories 


on paper. John used to stop at Park¬ 
er’s on his way home from the market 
where he had taken eggs and straw¬ 
berries to sell. It was at the door of 
the village shop that he met the new 
little girl. 

She had driven down with her gov¬ 
erness from the larger estate not far 
from John’s in a basket dog cart 
drawn by a fat pony. She was cer¬ 
tainly strange in their village, John 
knew, for he had not seen her at 
school, and she looked shyly up and 
down the wide street with its great 
old shade trees as if she were lonely. 
Some little girls her own age were 




Tea with the Princess 


101 


playing there with their battledores 
and shuttlecocks, and the strange 
child watched them longingly. And 
when they saw her, these little girls 
stopped playing and hurried away 
after looking at her curiously. John 
thought them rude. He went up to 
this little stranger in the village and 
spoke to her. 

“Do you live in these parts?” he 
asked her. 

The little girl’s blue eyes danced 
as she looked into John’s brown ones. 
How bright and soft her hair was, and 
she wore blue ribbons and a ruffled 
white dress! She answered John 




102 


Lincoln Time Stories 


politely, although even her words 
seemed full of laughter. 

“Oh, no,” she said. “We come from 
London.” 

London, the great city of John’s 
dreams! This was exciting. He 
moved nearer the little girl. “Have 
you by any chance seen the tower of 
London and Buckingham palace and 
heard the bells of the city?” he asked. 

“We know all those,” said the little 
girl with the laughing eyes. 

“Did you ever see the king and the 
queen of England, or any of the royal 
family?” John went on. “We have but 
lately come to this village from the 




Tea with the Princess 


103 


north and I have wished that I might 
see London and a princess. Are they 
very fine folks?” 

Now the little girl looked sober. “I 
have seen them,” she told John, “and 
I would say that they were good plain 
folks like you and me, wearing their 
crowns because they must for the sake 
of England. But I must leave you 
now,” she said hastily as her governess 
appeared from Parker’s with a bundle 
and looked rather sternly at the 
strange little boy in his blue smock. 
“We have bought some little china 
dolls to dress,” the girl told John. 
Then she whispered to him, “Would 




104 


Lincoln Time Stories 


you like to see the princess of England 
this afternoon?” 

John gasped in amazement as she 
went on. “She is staying at the large 
country house at the end of that lane 
where there are so many apple trees. 
I am there too. If you will wear your 
best suit, boy, and call this afternoon 
at four o’clock I may be able to let you 
see her.” There was a jump into the 
basket cart, the governess took the 
reins, and off went the surprising little 
girl. 

“She is the greatest story teller I 
ever met,” John said to himself as he 
walked home, but the more he thought 



Tea with the Princess 


105 


about it, the more he felt like accept¬ 
ing her invitation. He did not know 
many of the children of the village yet 
and the little girl he had met at Park¬ 
er’s looked as if she knew how to play 
with a boy. 

John did not tell his mother of his 
adventure. He was not sure how she 
would feel about his wearing his white 
sailor suit, that was all starched for 
Sunday, for a week day tea. Then, 
too, perhaps the girl had been only 
joking. Well, he would find out. John 
did his chores early, washed his face 
and hands and combed his hair. Look¬ 
ing very fine in his sailor suit, he went 




106 


Lincoln Time Stories 


to the end of the apple tree lane until 
he came to the great white house that 
seemed as large as a castle to him. 
And he knocked bravely at the front 
door. 

A formal looking lady wearing a 
hat let him in. The long hall down 
which she led him was dim and cool 
and very sweet with the perfume of 
flowers. Then they came to a small 
room. At the door the lady left John 
and he went shyly inside. There was 
tea, and there was the governess pour¬ 
ing it. The little girl with the blue 
eyes and yellow hair sat at the tea 
table. But where was the princess she 



Tea with the Princess 


107 


had promised? Just like a girl, John 
thought, to make up a story like that 

and trick him into putting on his Sun¬ 
day suit. 

“Will you have two lumps of sugar?” 
asked the governess as she poured a 
cup of tea for John. “Her Royal High¬ 
ness persuaded her mother to allow 
you to join her at tea and play in the 
garden afterward for a little while.” 
Then the governess turned to the lit¬ 
tle girl and said, “Mary, how many 
times have I told you not to play with 
the tea grounds in your cup! ” 

Mary! Her Royal Highness! Now 
he thought of it, the Princess Mary of 




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108 


Will you have two lumps of sugarf 


















































































Tea with the Princess 


109 


England would be about the age of this 
little girl, John thought. He began to 
feel afraid, but the child laughed back 
her reply. 

“I am only trying to hide my face, 
for the boy wanted to see a princess. 
He may be disappointed in Mary of 
England who rides in a pony cart to 
Parker’s.” 

Now John knew he was having tea 
with a princess! 

It was a merry tea party and John 
never forgot it. The Princess Mary 
grew up to be a loved girl and John 
was as good a farmer as ever England 




110 


Lincoln Time Stories 


knew. They never saw each other 
again but that was not the princess’ 
fault. She would have shaken hands 
with him any day, for she is a plain, 
fine princess. 









■Ill 



-Author* of 

Little Bo^Irance, 

Eskimo Robin Jbn Crusoe, 
(Skimmer* the Dauntlejirin. 
thefarNoith, LittleWIitetcDc 

♦ 

IllUvTtrated by; 

Jarah K. Jmitk 

o O O’ O 
Riblij*hed bv _ 

AlbertV^hitman ana Company 

Chicago r ^ 


THE-DINNER- 
THATV?\5AL- 
\v5 c Q?S-THERE- 

Roy; Jud^on <5nell 











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